Hero's Coffin Chapter 2

Chapter 2

They say the most common reaction when faced with a shocking reality is denial.

He faithfully denied reality. Perhaps he was dreaming because he had died, or maybe he was having strange delusions while in a coma after being hit by a truck.

With the intention of waking up from this nonsensical dream, he pinched his arm hard, but it only hurt terribly. This body seemed to have been even more malnourished than his own, as the skin and bones were so close together that it was difficult to even pinch the skin.

No, when he was hit by the truck earlier, it didn't hurt, so why should a mere pinch of flesh hurt so vividly? Why was this his reality? He had read novels where the possessed person was mistreated as an illegitimate child of a noble family, or was a servant or slave, but a death row inmate who would die tomorrow?

Chilling imaginings began to unfold in his mind.

Judging by the man's appearance, this seemed to be a fantasy world modeled after the Middle Ages, so how would they carry out executions here? Poison? No, poison was rather a high-class execution method for the upper classes. Even the poison chalice was considered an honorable death for the upper classes. Considering the guard's attitude, the poor condition of the prison, and his own emaciated body, this body didn't seem to belong to someone of high status.

Then, perhaps a clean beheading? Ah, was this also a bit of a high-class punishment? It seemed that people who died on the guillotine usually had some rank. Maybe hanging? If this body belonged to a serious criminal who had caused social unrest and was to be made an example of... Dismemberment? Burning at the stake? He had heard that in the past, they sometimes killed people by putting them in boiling water.

As his imagination grew increasingly grim, he grabbed the prison bars in terror.

"Excuse me. Actually, I'm not this person. I had an accident and my soul entered this body by mistake. Is there any way to fix this?"

"What's he saying?"

"I think that even if someone has to die, it should be the original owner of this body. Shouldn't we find the person who truly deserves punishment in order to properly uphold the authority of the judicial system? If you could help me leave this body..."

He had barely been able to bear the pain of pinching his skin—how was he supposed to face execution? No matter how he thought about it, the form of execution didn't seem like it would be a quick service that would kill him instantly, so words poured out of him in a rush.

But then, something odd struck him—he was speaking in the language of this world. Come to think of it, he had understood the guard's words earlier, and now he was speaking without any difficulty. It was different from stumbling through a second language learned in school. He could think entirely in this language, as if he had learned it first. Such a phenomenon could only be explained by possession.

Half amazed and half desperate, he blurted out words, but the guard shouted angrily.

"Shut up!"

Not stopping there, the guard opened the prison door, came inside, and kicked him in the stomach with a thud. The direct hit to his abdomen made his body curl up involuntarily.

"It's because of scum like you that the hero suffered and died!"

"Ugh...!"

"I was reverently observing a moment of silence because I heard the coffin was passing nearby, you ruined it! Do you know how kind, merciful, and noble he was? You piece of trash!"

The guard’s claim to have been observing a moment of silence was laughable, considering he’d been playing cards just a moment ago, but there was no time to argue. He curled up his body and struggled to avoid the pain from the continuous kicks.

Back in middle and high school, some bullies had picked on him to establish their dominance. He was the easiest target with no guardian. As a result, he had become accustomed to being beaten and instinctively assumed the position that would hurt the least.

And that posture seemed to provoke the guard's cruelty.

"Oh ho. You're trying to avoid it? You've been lying there like you were dead all this time!"

It seemed the guard had kicked this body a few times before. At that time, there had been no reaction, so he must have quickly lost interest, but now, seeing the body writhing and trying to avoid the pain, he seemed to find a taste for kicking, and his kicks became even more violent. He had made the wrong choice.

Now, with each kick, the man shouted, "Soul, what, soul!" The words he had said earlier must have been quite absurd. Well, if a prisoner suddenly requests to postpone the execution because their soul has changed, it would be laughable…

"After tormenting souls like that, you expect me to believe that your soul has changed, of all people?!"

Ah, so that was the reason?

Wait, what exactly had this body done? Tormented souls? Could it be that the 'hero' the guard mentioned earlier really died because of this body?

...No, he had said 'scum like you,' so it probably wasn't the exact cause. It had to be that way. But whatever it was, it seemed clear that he would face the most terrible death.

After the guard's violence had passed, he curled up miserably in the corner of the prison. Night had fallen, and a gloomy darkness had settled. His whole body ached, and the stone floor was cold. He felt like complaining to someone. Since he had possessed such a lousy body, couldn't they at least provide an on/off setting for pain sensation?

Why did he have to feel pain and cold here too?

After a few hours of curling up, he finally entered the stage of acceptance. Yes, it seemed impossible to escape from this prison anyway, so it might be better to die quickly tomorrow. Maybe then he could possess a new body? This body was just a trial and error encountered on the way to a hopeful life. A mistake, perhaps.

And in creative works, they often explained that the reason for a life of great suffering was 'because the soul was misplaced,' so maybe the next life could unfold even better, if only out of apology for the mistake.

A life where he wouldn't be chased by ghosts, wouldn't roll on the floor, wouldn't shiver from cold, and wouldn't starve. A life without fear, pain, loneliness, or sorrow…

Wait, this sounds like death?

He belatedly realized that what he had been doing was going through the five stages of grief — accepting death. Pfft, he let out a hollow laugh at the absurdity, then refined his imagination. He had never lived a good life, so it was vague, but he tried to picture the form of a happy life often described.

Perhaps a life of living with beautiful looks, receiving the respect and love of many people, possessing countless vast fortunes, and enjoying power that no one could approach? What would it feel like to live such a life…

Boom!

Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, a sudden roar struck his ears. Not only that, but the entire space shook violently, making the prison bars vibrate. The guards jumped up from their seats, showing confusion.

"What's that?"

"It's over there!"

It seemed like something had collided heavily with the building.

It looked like some problem had occurred, but it probably had nothing to do with him. He was already overwhelmed just accepting his current situation, so he tuned out the commotion outside…

The roaring sounds continued, and at some point, a whitish smoke spread, and suddenly his body was grabbed, and a blanket was wrapped around his face. Then, in an instant, he was seized by rough hands like a paper doll and taken out, bumping into all sorts of things along the way.

"Huh?"

He was outside.

Wasn’t this progressing a bit too fast? If this were a novel, readers would probably complain about the pacing. But that was all he could perceive. Just crash, bang, boom, and he was outside. How could he know anything with the blanket covering his view?

However, one thing he could be certain of was that moonlight was now pouring down on him unobstructed.

The moon that he could barely see earlier through the densely barred window was now cleanly positioned right above him. The moon, visible in its entirety without any obstacles. What? Why was he brought outside?

Kneeling down, he unfamiliarly felt the ground. It wasn't a hard stone floor, but a soft grass field. The feeling of the cool night air freshly enveloping his entire body was welcome.

When he turned around, he saw a tall tower that had collapsed about halfway. Since he had been carried down for quite a while, he must have been imprisoned at the top of that place.

Could it be that this body had an ally? The timing was just right, one day before the execution. Yes, someone had come to rescue him!

Swoosh– A blade was pressed against his neck.

"Isaph. Listen to me carefully."

For the second time today, he experienced his expectations being shattered. He blankly looked up at the man holding a sword to his neck. This seemed to be the person who had carried him out earlier. He was a large man with dark red hair and a fierce look, with a scar running straight across the bridge of his nose.

Next to him, a woman with long silver hair reaching her waist was looking down at him coldly. There wasn't a hint of warmth in her navy blue eyes.

He could tell just from their gazes. They both utterly despised this body. But then why did they break him out?

"From now on, you must cooperate with us. Our orders..."

It was his first time having a sword pressed to his neck, so he was flustered and simply bewildered. Cooperate with what? Who are you people? And this dazed state of his must have been clearly visible on his face, because the red-haired man suddenly frowned.

"Are you ignoring me right now?!"

Drip... Blood flowed from his neck. It seemed this wasn't just a threat, but that they really intended to kill him if he didn't comply, as his skin was cut. Just as he was freezing up from the blood wetting his nape, a gentle voice was heard from behind.

"Lower your sword."

Although the tone was extremely soft, it seemed to instantly draw all attention. Even in his dazed state, he was struck by how pretty the voice was, capturing even his nerves.

The red-haired man immediately stepped back. Just as he was about to think that someone as kind as their pretty voice was going to help him…

"I'll talk to him directly."

At those words, he noticed the large man flinch. Not only that, but the woman on the other side also gave him a strange look before quickly turning her head away. It was as if she was averting her gaze from what was about to happen.